


i'm the fury in your bed

by copperiisulfate



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 17:08:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3658386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperiisulfate/pseuds/copperiisulfate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a voice in the crowd, the sound of your name.</p>
<p>You used to turn around, once.</p>
<p>You’ve stopped long since.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm the fury in your bed

 

_Don’t you die_ , he says, has been saying, keeps on saying. _Don’t you die._

(Sometimes it almost sounds like a question.  _Don’t you die? Why_ don’t  _you die?_ )

Other times, it’s more like a statement, more like a plea—and imagine that!—more like: _The way it goes is that I cannot live and you cannot die._

_Who’s gonna kill me if you die?_

—except, the joke’s on you because he’s already dead.

 

*

 

You don’t dream about it as much anymore.

You don’t dream of the red on white, the red on blue, the red all over, the red of blood and the red of—

— _his_  red.

It’s a good thing, mostly, you think.

 

*

 

Sometimes, he is a memory you do not remember, a whole host of memories, images of sunlit days and patchwork nights that did not belong to you. You did not know him then and that was not yours to keep just as he was not yours to keep. 

Still, you think of what he must have been like, wondered if he had ever smiled without a strain in it, in his youth, wondered if he had ever reeked of anything but anticipation and ash, a war lost before it began. You don’t know if he had ever been anything but a boy-king with no sense of poise, an accident from start to finish, with no desire for reclamation.

Or you do know. You know without knowing. _Of course not._

There’s a voice in the crowd, the sound of your name.

You used to turn around, once.

You’ve stopped long since.

 

*

 

You know that your sword is wearing itself thin, swaying a little above your head. No one can see it, of course. It’s early still. No one can see it yet; no one but you.

(Or no one who matters, no one who can do a goddamned thing about it anyway.)

_Are you going to die?_  

He says it through his teeth like a taunt, real and not real. 

It’s hard to tell if it’s the voice in your head or the ghost under your bed. 

And then, there’s the sound of your name again, and here, it’s bitten out the way he bites—used to bite—his cigarette, passive and seemingly effortless but then, nothing is truly effortless. You know this the way you know how to make it look easy, the way he used to make it look easy. you know this in your blood and you know this with your bones.

 

*

 

You see him in the ash of the cigarettes you tell yourself you no longer really smoke, not frequently, not nearly as much as you ought to.

You see him in the mirror on the darker days. 

Sometimes, he is beside you and sometimes he stares back from where it should be you. And then, sometimes, you are both superimposed, his grin against your frown, some interdimensional kind of kiss.

 

*

 

Sometimes, he says, _It's not so bad._

The lilt to his voice is inviting, playful, the way it used to go when his eyes would light up, as if he was saying, _Let’s play, Munakata._   _Don’t leave me hanging._

Sometimes, you can feel him, too close for comfort, loud in your head and burning up your bed. You could even touch him, easily, if you tried but you don’t quite let yourself.

_So come on_ , he beckons. _Come on!_

You want to press your fingers to his not-self’s not-lips and tell him:  _Not yet._

Maybe soon, or if you’re lucky, a little later, far later than both of you are counting on.

 

*

 

_It’s not so bad_ , he says, on another day, in a quieter moment.

You don’t know if it’s meant to be reassuring. 

Regardless, it sort of helps.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I think about ghost!Mikoto haunting Reisi a lot. 
> 
> Title from _Spanish Sahara_ by Foals.


End file.
